


Fantasy 8.1 - The Inaugural Balls

by LizaCameron



Series: TWW Fantasy Season 8 [1]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, TWW Fantasy Season 8, Virtual Season/Series, full episodes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2019-05-30 14:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15098486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaCameron/pseuds/LizaCameron
Summary: The first episode of TWW Fantasy Eight. 18 Episodes of a JD-centric season of The West Wing.The Inaugural Balls! But even during an evening of parties in their honor, the new Santos staff learns they are never off duty.





	1. TEASER

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**INT. DONNA'S OFFICE**

"This is obscene."

At the sound of his voice, Donna turned from the table. She'd been bent over her purse, extracting the personal items that she would need for the long evening ahead.

"What?" With trepidation, she glanced down at her clingy, slightly revealing gown. "Me in this dress?"

That got Josh to focus his attention on Donna for the first time since entering the room. What he saw made him forget about the obscenity; the expression he now wore could only be described as awed. It was a moment before he found a stable voice. When he did, he took pains to say the right thing. He settled on a slightly breathless, "You look beautiful."

It must have been the right thing, because at his compliment, Donna's face softened into a bashful, yet pleased, smile. Choosing the right dress had not been easy; she'd spent much more time on the First Lady's attire than her own. In addition, even though her budget was bigger these days, there was still a budget. But budget or no, she was happy with her choice. The color was a deep raspberry and the fabric a shimmery jewel tone. It was cut on the bias with spaghetti straps that crisscrossed over a great expanse of silky alabaster in the back. In front her cleavage was generous, yet tasteful in a sexy way. Or at least, that's what she'd been told. And what she'd told herself. 

"I'm gonna be the guy with the hottest date at the balls." Josh was now apparently recovered enough to smirk. 

She found a smirk of her own. "So obscene is good?"

"What?" Josh asked, forgetting his graceless entrance moments earlier. He hurriedly shook his head when he realized how she'd taken his comment. "Oh… no… I meant this office. This office is obscene." 

He made an exaggerated show of trying to make his way towards her across the somewhat vacuous space. "Who are you sleeping with that you got the biggest office in the building?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She replied with a randy quirk of her eyebrow. "Martin in Mansion Management is pretty cute." 

"Seriously, it's bigger than the Oval."

"No, it's not." 

"Might be; I'd like to see the square footage. It's at least bigger than my office."

With a theatrical sigh she replied, "Yes, it's almost twice as big. Must mean I'm twice as important as you." 

Josh had finally come to stand right in front of her. She leaned in as if she was going to kiss him, but instead reached around and slipped her hand in his pocket, depositing her compact and other essentials. She had a small evening pouch, but he was so much more convenient.

"Hey!" He complained when she stepped away without kissing him, and then eyed her suspiciously. "What's in it for me if I carry your… gear all night?"

"If you're good, a surprise."

"Really?" He perked up at that suggestion, but was still somewhat wary.

"Let's just say I'll make it worth your while." She leaned towards him, intending to give him the kiss she'd deprived him of moments earlier. But before her lips reached their destination, her progress was stunted by a knock at the open door. 

"You know, we're in the White House now, and I'm not sure that's a White House-approved activity. I'm learning there are a lot of rules about what you can and can't do in this place."

Josh straightened up at the presence of the smirking First Lady. Everyone was full of smirks tonight. Hardly surprising, considering the jovial mood around the building. "Good evening, Ma'am," he greeted Helen. "You look nice."

"’Nice’?" Helen asked, obviously unimpressed by the compliment. "This is a John Diego original. John Diego originals are not ‘nice.’ They're extraordinary. Or at least, that is what I was told when I was encouraged to pick one of his designs."

Befuddled, he searched for a response while Donna tried not to smile beside him. Just as he was opening his mouth to reply, he was saved by the bell, so to speak. His beeper sounded and he immediately reached for it. The beeper was new. Official White House issue. Glancing at the display, he grimaced slightly and then met Donna's eye. "Hmm… I gotta…" he motioned towards the door. "I'll meet you… uh… what entrance is the motorcade at again?"

"Meet us in the Oval; Matt wants to propose a toast before we leave," Helen interjected before Donna could answer. Josh nodded and was out the door. 

**CUT TO:  
INT. WHITE HOUSE, WEST WING HALLWAY, SAME TIME**

"What are you wearing?" Otto asked as he met Lou in motion and began walking in the same direction.

"What do you mean, what am I wearing? What does it look like I'm wearing?" Lou asked defensively, a newly-formed sneer marring her formally attired countenance.

"You look like you're wearing a dress," Otto replied, keeping pace with her as they moved through the Communications bullpen.

"That's because I am wearing a dress."

"I've never seen you in a dress before."

"I wear dresses." She proclaimed as she tucked her hair behind her ears. They could talk her into a dress, but they weren't going to talk her into putting her hair up in some frou-frou chignon. Or whatever it was called when they spackled your hair to your head.

"I don't think so…" Otto shook his head skeptically.

"Well…" She shifted uncomfortably, obviously ill at ease in the dress, but unwilling to admit it to her Deputy and one-time lover. "We're going to the balls. I've been told a gown is mandatory at a ball, or did you forget why you're dressed like the maître d' at a Mr. Steak?"

"No, I haven't forgotten," he replied excitedly and straightened his posture in his tuxedo.

"Don't look so eager, these things suck."

"You're jaded."

"And you haven't reached puberty. Trust me, they suck."

"Do they suck even when you're the guest of honor?"

"You're not the guest of honor there, Squirt."

He smartly ignored the dig. "No, but I'll be with the guest of honor. Have you ever gone to one of these things with the guest of honor?"

"Can't say that I have,” she replied.

"Maybe it won't suck being on this side of things."

"No, we're going to nine balls over the course of four hours. Each will be hot and crowded—by definition, that sucks."

Otto looked defeated as they rounded the corner to the Oval Office. "Well, when you put it like that…"

She stopped in front of Ronna's new desk and turned to face him. "And what do you mean, you don't think I wear dresses? I wear dresses."

"When?"

"I wore one…" She came up with a blank. "Prom. I wore a dress to prom."

"When was that?"

"1986," she replied somewhat triumphantly.

"1986?" He snorted. "In 1986 I was-"

"In diapers?" Lou deadpanned while adjusting the skirt of her dress.

"I know you like to make age jokes at my expense, but you do know I’m actually 28?" He defended vigorously.

"Whatever you say there, Beav." She continued to fidget in her dress just as Bram walked up. "Ahh, and here's Wally."

Bram looked confused and Otto ignored the joke. "So you wore a dress to prom two decades ago. I stand corrected. Obviously, you wear dresses all the time."

"Did I miss something?" Bram asked somewhat cluelessly, but was ignored by the sparring twosome.

"What is it with you and this dress; is it a bad dress?" She asked, and then, not waiting for an answer, entered the open door to the Oval.

"No…" Otto shook his head as he motioned a bemused Bram into the Oval after her. As he followed, he muttered under his breath, "It's not a bad dress at all." 

**CUT TO:  
INT. WHITE HOUSE, EAST WING HALLWAY, A MOMENT LATER**

"I hate you."

"Ma'am?" Puzzled, Donna glanced over at her boss as they headed towards the West Wing. "You hate me already? This is only our first day."

Helen chuckled at that and shook her head. "You get to wear the incredibly sexy dress, while I'm stuck in something my mother-in-law wouldn't be caught dead in." Helen motioned to her gown, which was a sparkly ice blue and had a full skirt to the floor. "In fact, I've seen her dress for tonight, and it is sexier."

While the First Lady's gown was strapless and quite fitted through the bodice, any potential sexiness was lost because she also wore a long-sleeved bolero-type jacket of the same material. Her hair was in a French twist, while Donna's hung loose and sexy down her back. "Was this a conspiracy? You get to wear that dress and I'm in 30 pounds of heavy silk taffeta? Because you were the one who kept pushing dignified."

"Ma'am, I was there every time one of the fashion magazines or tabloids tore apart what Mrs. Bartlet wore to occasions such as this. Which was… well… every formal occasion she ever attended. You can't go wrong with dignified, especially your first time out of the gate. You look fantastic, and maybe we can ease you into semi-sexy by our first State Dinner."

"But you can look sexy now?"

"No one cares about me. Trust me; no cameras will be aimed in my direction tonight." Donna chuckled, before reassuring her, "You look lovely." 

Helen just crooked an incredulous eye at her as they continued walking, so Donna repeated more emphatically, "You do! You look lovely. But don't worry. All of America knows you have a thong on under all that dignity."

Helen stopped in her tracks and turned her laser-like gaze on her Chief of Staff.

Donna grimaced and turned back to face her. "I'm sorry, are we not laughing about that incident yet?"

At Donna's expression, Helen did burst out laughing. "No, we're laughing about it. We’re definitely laughing about it. Come on, let's go have a toast." Helen turned down a new corridor.

"Whoa," Donna called out at the retreating First Lady's form. "Where are you going?"

She pointed ahead. "To the Oval."

"If you go that way, you'll end up in the Steam Pipe Distribution Venue."

"The what?"

"Not the Oval," Donna clarified for her.

"This place is impossible. And there I was, getting all cocky because I made it from the Residence to the East Wing with the help of only two of the house staff."

Donna chuckled. "Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it by the next State of the Union."

**CUT TO:  
INT. OVAL OFFICE**

"A momentous evening, indeed," Matt Santos boomed as a steward handed him a glass of champagne. Helen and Donna entered the Oval to find Lou, Sam, Bram, Otto, Lester and Ronna already gathered in their finery. Their entrance was greeted by a boisterous chorus of hellos, and the room crackled with excitement.

"Champagne for the lovely ladies." Sam handed both Donna and Helen a glass of bubbly as they entered. 

Donna beamed at him. "Thank you, Sam. You look very handsome tonight."

He straightened his bow tie. "I try."

"And you look nice," Donna said enthusiastically as she came to stand next to Lou. 

"I look like Carrie's about to enter the gym and do her worst," Lou retorted as she continued to fidget in the deep purple gown which was draped by a wrap that covered her tattoos.

"Carolina Herrera does not make prom dresses." The almost exasperated way Donna said it made it clear it wasn't the first time they'd had the conversation. 

Lou scowled at her. "I thought you found this for me on EBay; we don't even know it's a real Carolina… whatever."

"You think I'd have you spend five hundred dollars on a fake," Donna questioned pointedly.

Lou was about to further comment on the prom-y nature of her maybe-designer dress when she was interrupted by the President. That was probably for the best.

"Where's Josh?" Matt asked loudly as he took inventory of the room.

"He'll be here in a minute, sir. I'm sure he'd want you to start without him," Donna encouraged.

He nodded and then raised his glass. Everyone else followed suit. "I just wanted to thank all of you for your incredible hard work through the election and transition, and tell you to enjoy yourselves tonight, heartily, because tonight we celebrate, but tomorrow the real work beg-"

"Mr. President." Matt was interrupted by Josh as he entered the Oval from the Chief of Staff's office.

At Josh's grim expression, the President lowered his glass of champagne. "What is it, Josh."

"Sir, at 6:22pm Eastern Standard Time an OH-58D Kiowa Warrior scout helicopter went down approximately 35 kilometers west of Khan Tangiri Shyngy while on a reconnaissance mission near the Chinese border. Rescue missions are underway, but the Army pilot and the three rangers who were with him are all presumed dead."

The mood in the room shifted in an instant. Smiles became masks of professionalism as everyone changed gears. The President stared at Josh with a slightly stunned expression. He paused a split-second, unsure what he should ask first. It was Helen who beat him to the punch. "What does this mean?"

Josh's voice was grave. "It means we have our first casualties in Kazakhstan."

**SMASH CUT TO OPENING TITLES**


	2. ACT 1

**INT. JOSH'S OFFICE, ONE MINUTE LATER**

Spurred into action by the news, the staff went into instant overdrive. Josh ushered Helen and Donna into his office to wait. "I'll let you know what's happening as soon as I know."

"Is there anything I can do?" Donna asked anxiously as Josh was about to shut the door to the Oval.

"No, we'll know more soon. But you might get prepared to go on without us."

"Go on without you?" Helen asked incredulously.

"No matter what happens, there are thousands of people out there who have been promised a glimpse of the President. At the very least, we need to make sure they get a glimpse of the First Lady. There's no one else…" His voice trailed off, but the implication was clear. There was no Vice President-- no Leo-- to assume the ceremonial duties of the evening in case of crisis.

Once Josh had vanished behind the door to the Oval, they both stood in silence, letting the reality of the situation soak in. Finally, Helen turned to Donna. "He's not serious. You and I going to the balls without Matt?"

Donna gulped. "I'm afraid he is."

"Is it really possible for the President to not go to these things?"

"There is precedence. FDR never attended an Inaugural Ball. And of course he had opportunity for a lot of them. And if this is… if this is it, if the Chinese or Russians have fired the first shot, then there is no way the President will be able to leave tonight."

"You think that's what's happened?" Horror was written all over Helen's face.

"I have no idea." Donna shook her head.

"Is it always like this?" Helen put her hand on her stomach as if to quell nausea.

"What do you mean?"

"Hearing news like this, news that soldiers have died and feeling so… so responsible, even when I have nothing to do with it?"

Donna thought about it a moment before answering. "The shock becomes less, but that sick feeling never goes away," she ended with a sympathetic smile

They both sat in silence. After a few minutes, Helen turned to her curiously. "How'd you know the FDR thing?" 

"I have a mind for trivia," Donna replied, but she didn't look at Helen. Her eyes were glued to the door to the Oval. It was a door she desperately wanted to be on the other side of.

**INT. OVAL OFFICE – SAME TIME**

Santos addressed Josh as Sam and Bram stood silent, and at the ready, by his desk. "Are you sure we shouldn't go to the Situation Room?"

Josh shook his head. "General McClain is on his way-"

Just then, Ronna opened the door and ushered the general into the room. 

"Good evening, Mr. President," he nodded to the President.

"What do we know, General?"

"We've found the wreckage; there are no survivors."

"Four soldiers dead." The President closed his eyes for two seconds, taking in the information, and then re-focused on the general. "Do we know what caused the crash?"

"We've ruled out a hostile incident. All the facts aren't in, but we have good reason to believe it was an accident."

"An accident?"

"Yes, Sir. Unfortunately, helicopter accidents are not as rare as we would like."

"I know." The President, and former Marine pilot, nodded. "Inclement weather?"

"Might have been a factor, Sir. We'll know more soon."

"Okay, thank you, General. Please keep me informed." The general nodded and headed out of the room.

When he left, Josh blew out a breath. "That's good news."

"Good news?!" Santos asked sharply. "Four Americans who were serving their country are dead and you call it good news?" Bram backed up a step at the bite coming from the President, but Sam stood his ground, much more used to the situation, if not the specific man.

Josh looked him in the eye and clarified, "Good news of the we're-not-at-war-with-a-nuclear-power variety. Big picture. Of course, it goes without saying what kind of news the death of the soldiers is."

"Right… big picture," Santos repeated before he paced from behind his desk. 

Josh continued, "Like the general said, helicopter accidents occur pretty much wherever there are helicopters."

"True," the President agreed. "But this is going to bring our involvement in Kazakhstan into sharper focus."

"Yes, it is, Sir." Sam spoke for the fist time. "There's nothing like reports of fatalities, especially the first fatalities, to make Americans examine the cost of any military action."

Santos looked between the three of them before ordering, "Have Ronna call the head of the Inaugural Committee and let them know I won't be able to attend the balls."

Sam and Josh exchanged a quick look of alarm and Josh nodded to Sam, prodding him wordlessly to speak. "Mr. President," Sam began carefully. "We have to continue on with our evening."

"What!?" He asked, his voice once again strained.

"Sir, there's nothing we can do here."

"But Americans are dead."

"Yes," Josh replied, his lips pressed into a grim line.

"And you want me to go out and party?" Santos turned back to Josh as Lou and Lester entered the Oval.

"No, but you need to go and fulfill your obligations. Thousands of people are waiting to catch a glimpse of you. You need to make an appearance."

"Won't it be charged that the Commander-in-Chief is out whooping it up while troops are serving and dying?"

Stepping forward, Lou answered. "Otto is working on a statement from you and Lester will release it before we even leave the White House." The new Press Secretary nodded his agreement as Lou continued, "You'll do a moment of silence at the first ball, followed by a dance with your wife to something slow and appropriately reverent or perhaps patriotic. That should show your respect without killing the mood of the party entirely. Otto will stay back here for an hour or so, in case there is any fall-out."

"But… I…" The President tried to come up with a viable argument. "I have to call the families…" 

"I'll have Donna-" Josh paused at his slip of the tongue. He was used to standing in the Oval and relying on Donna to get things done. "I mean Ronna. Ronna will stay in contact with the personnel here and as soon as we have the names, we'll find a quiet place, wherever we are."

Santos finally nodded his acquiescence.

**CUT TO:  
INT. – LIMO**

Donna was sitting alone in the limo, waiting for Josh to finish up and be ready to go. Several minutes later, the door opened and Lou and Sam slid into the expansive car across from her.

"Where's Josh?" Donna asked with alarm when Josh didn't follow them into the car she was expecting to share only with him.

"He'll be here in a minute. He asked us to ride with you two so we could go over some things on the way," Lou replied as she tried to get comfortable sitting in a limo in her gown. She wasn't successful. "Seriously, women wear this crap of their own free will?" Her question was rhetorical.

"How's the President?" Donna asked anxiously, thirsty for any information.

Sam responded as he pushed his glasses farther up his face. "It's hitting him pretty hard. He wanted to cancel his appearances at the balls."

"You talked him out of it?" Donna's eyebrows were raised.

They both nodded, but again it was Sam who replied. "I think he feared it would be disrespectful for him to attend the parties."

"So how are we handling that?"

"We hope he can find the right tone for the evening," Lou answered nonspecifically as the door opened again, and Josh slid in next to Donna. "Respectful, but not morose."

"Right now he's pretty morose." Josh's reply came out alongside a sharp exhale. He caught Donna's eye and smiled.

"Morose is understandable." She automatically curved toward him and put a reassuring hand on his arm. "It's the first death on his watch." 

"Well, let's hope he snaps out of it in the next thirty minutes. The last thing he needs to do is bite off the heads of dignitaries. And I don't even want to think about the consequences if he'd cancelled; at re-election the opposition would have had a field day remembering how Santos was so flummoxed by a helicopter accident that he had to stay home," Lou charged as she now was trying to arrange the wrap around her shoulder. 

Donna glared at Lou's cavalier attitude, before her gaze darted between Sam and Josh. "Do you remember what it felt like? The first time? Of course, for President Bartlet it didn't happen the night of the Inauguration."

After a moment of introspection, Sam admitted, "I didn't sleep that night." 

"I didn't sleep that week." Josh added softly while chewing on the side of his mouth. Lost in thought, he turned to look out the window. Donna squeezed his hand as the car started to move.

**CUT TO:  
INT. PRESIDENTIAL LIMO, SAME TIME**

Matt sat staring out the window of the limo as the motorcade moved through the darkened DC streets. The flashing lights of the police blockades were visible, but significantly toned down by the dark tinted windows of the limo. Other than that, he wasn't really paying attention to what he was looking at.

Helen studied him. When they'd made half the trip in silence, she finally nudged him. "Silver dollar for your thoughts."

He started and then turned back towards her, his lip quirked in surprise. "Silver dollar?"

She shrugged. "You really should do something about inflation."

"Right." He flinched slightly. "I'll put that on the list. Should it come before or after men and women dying in Kazakhstan?"

She reached over and rubbed his shoulder. "Honey, I was joking. I'm sorry; I didn't mean it like that."

Matt exhaled sharply. "No… no, I'm sorry. This shouldn't affect me so much. I shouldn't let my mood ruin what is supposed to be the best night of our lives."

"The best night of our lives?" Helen questioned dubiously, obviously trying to jostle him out of his sour temper. "I thought the best night of our lives was our wedding night."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "If I remember correctly, you passed out on our wedding night before we could… celebrate properly."

"See, that right there is a lesson about high expectations. Back then and tonight." She leaned over and pressed her lips to the side of his face before turning serious. "I know this is a lot to take in on your first day." 

He was silent for a long moment. "But I’m a Marine; I shouldn't be so bothered by this. I know the risks."

"Yes, you are. But you've never been a Commander-in-Chief before. I would guess it's different."

He actually chuckled softly at the understatement. "Yeah, I guess it's different. It's one thing to be in the field. You know the unexpected can happen. I'd hear about a flight accident during training on some base or another halfway around the world; it would give me a moment's pause and then I'd focus on to my next orders. It was part of that life. But I sent those kids over there. I am the one ultimately responsible for their deaths."

"Matt, it was an accident. It's not your fault."

"Then whose fault is it? Someone has to take the blame, and I'm the reason they're there in the first place."

"You didn't send them over there. The last guy is the one who did that and left you holding the bag."

"It was my decision to keep them there. It's a decision I just have to learn to live with, but I don't think that lesson is going to come easy." He patted her hand and attempted a smile at her. "As soon as I'm able to make the calls to the families, I'll snap out of it, and I promise to show you a good time by the end of the night."

"If I don't pass out before then." But she smiled and settled back against him. 

**CUT TO:  
INT. – THE WEST WING, OFFICE 137B, SAME TIME**

"What are you doing?" Otto had his hands propped on his waist, arms akimbo, trying to appear authoritative as he stood in the doorway of the office.

"I just got off the phone with Annabeth. She's over at the Inaugural Committee headquarters and is making sure the changes in the program are a go for the first ball. I'm not sure why she volunteered to work over there tonight, but to each her own." Bram was all efficiency.

"Great, but I meant, what are you doing in this office?" Otto clarified, his voice rising slightly in pitch as he reached the end of the sentence.

"Well, I needed to make a phone call. And I thought my office was the best place to do that."

"Whoa… your office?"

"That's what the sign on the door says."

"There is no sign on the door."

"There will be," Bram explained with good nature and a spark of arrogance. "Because Cindy from Administration came around this afternoon and said it would be here next week." Bram cocked an eyebrow at Otto. "I don't usually go for redheads, but a very good-looking woman, that Cindy."

"What are we talking about?!" Otto asked with confusion, his annoyance growing.

"The name plaque that Cindy, the hot redhead, will be installing on the door."

"No…" Otto ground out. "She won't. At least not with your name, because this is not your office."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's my office."

"If it's your office…" Bram sat back with his fingers laced behind his head. "Then why am I sitting here, with my stuff already in the desk and my name almost on the door?"

"That is a question I can't answer. Why do you think this is your office?"

"What makes you think it's yours?"

"The office assignment chart," Otto replied automatically.

"Same. According to…" Bram sat up long enough to find the piece of paper on his desk. "…this chart. This is my office."

"Let me see." Otto snatched it away and, after a moment of reading, frowned at Bram over the top of the paper. Bram didn't seem concerned, as he was once again leaning back in the chair and resting his feet on the desk. Otto stepped forward in order to show the chart to Bram. "Right there. My name-- office 137B. That's this office."

"It says the same thing by my name. Don't tell me they want us to share?" Bram looked alarmed for the first time. 

"No, by your name it says B137."

"What's the difference?"

"The difference, I believe, is that 137 B is an office number. This one, to be exact. B137 is a desk in the bullpen. Bullpen 137." Otto pointed out the door. "I think somewhere close to Sam's office."

"That must be a mistake." Bram looked at him in utter disbelief. 

"I don't think so," Otto replied. Finally having the upper hand in the conversation, now his tone was matter-of-fact. "You're an Assistant Deputy Chief of Staff."

"You don't have to tell me that," Bram replied proudly.

"None of the Assistant Deputy Chiefs of Staff have West Wing offices."

"Are you sure?" Now Bram snatched the sheet.

"Well, I'm sure that I'm the Deputy Communications Director. And that I have an office and that 137B happens to be right next to the Communication Director's, so it makes sense that they would assign it to me."

"But I'm the Assistant Deputy Chief of Staff!" Bram uttered, as if that would explain everything.

"You know there are a half dozen people with that title, right?"

Bram stood, scowling at him, and was about to retort when they were interrupted.

"If you guys are done waving your big man parts around," Ronna interjected from the door. "I have the information on the soldiers who were killed in Kazakhstan."

Chastened, they instantly became serious, the bickering over the office suddenly a distant memory. 

 

**CUT TO:  
INT. KENNEDY CENTER, A SHORT TIME LATER**

As they walked into the back staging area of the Kennedy Center, the site of their first Inaugural Ball of the evening, Josh immediately squeezed Donna's hand. With the other, he held up his vibrating BlackBerry. "Ronna is sending the information on the soldiers. I need a moment with the President; I'll be right back."

"Anything I can help-" But her voice died in her throat, as he was already ten feet away and a moment later, was huddled with the President. She glanced at Helen, but she was surrounded by relatives and Peter and Miranda-- who were attending just this first ball-- and seemed not to be in need of her attention. Instead, she turned to find Sam, who had been right behind her. Now they stood near the stage at the front edge of the party.

"I'm sorry your fiancée couldn't be here tonight," Donna remarked with utmost sincerity.

Sam smiled fondly. "Lauren had to be in California tomorrow morning, so we just couldn't make it work for her to come out."

"It's too bad. These things are… such events."

"Such _events_? Has their charm worn completely off for you too, Donna?" Sam teased.

She elbowed him gently. "No, I think there is something very magical about an Inaugural Ball, if you let yourself enjoy it. It's a shame she's missing it. But I'm looking forward to meeting her when she can make it out on a permanent basis."

"She's moving in a few weeks and she's looking forward to meeting you, too…" He trailed off as he looked across the room. "Will you excuse me a minute, Donna? I see Andi Wyatt and I have some business to discuss with her."

"Of course… business," Donna uttered to herself through her smile as she watched him go. She turned back toward the staging area to find Helen. Maybe the First Lady had some duty of actual importance for her to attend to. 

**CUT TO:  
INT. KENNEDY CENTER, BALLROOM, CONTINUED**

"Andi! You look wonderful." Sam took her hands in order to appraise the Congresswoman, before leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.

"Sam, it's so good to see you back in Washington."

"It's good to be back. How are the twins? I've seen pictures, but I'm anxious to meet them."

"Say the word and you can baby-sit."

The look of terror that crossed Sam's face made Andi laugh. "Joking. They're great. They're actually with Toby tonight."

"Oh?" Sam asked, not sure how to respond to the subject of Toby.

"That's actually why I called you this afternoon."

"I'm sorry I didn't return your call today. This afternoon went by very quickly. And then we had some bad news."

"I know. How's President Santos doing?"

"Taking it very personally, of course. So what can I do for you?"

"It's Toby." Caught off-guard, Sam raised his eyebrows at her. "Or rather, it's about Toby's pardon," she clarified.

"What about it?"

"Of course I'm thrilled. But… from what I'm hearing, I might be the only one. I wanted to warn you."

"Really?" Sam crossed his arms and rocked to his heels and then back again.

"Democrats are furious about the potential public relations fallout and I'm afraid Republicans are wasting no time in painting Bartlet's last act as President as an abuse of power-- releasing a man who committed treason for purely personal reasons."

"Toby was a dedicated servant of the President and this country for over seven years," Sam replied as if he'd memorized talking points. He hadn't. 

"You don't have to sell me." She took a deep fortifying breath, as if trying to cleanse herself of the entire nightmare. "Sam, what I'm hearing is that they're going to use this to stall Baker's confirmation."

If she didn't have it already, that got Sam's full attention. "How?"

"Clemency. They're threatening to make clemency *the* issue. Grill him on where he stands on a constitutional amendment prohibiting it. Spend days on his pardon record as Governor of Pennsylvania. Derail the whole thing based on where he stands on Bartlet pardoning Toby."

Sam looked ashen. "This is… not good."

"No it's not." Andi shook her head in resignation. 

"If you'll excuse me, I need to find Eric Baker." 

But just then, the orchestra started playing Hail to the Chief, and the President and First Lady stepped out onto the stage, to thunderous applause and cheers from the excited and well-coifed crowd. Sam's mission would have to wait. 

END ACT ONE


	3. ACT 2

**CUT TO:  
INT. – THE WEST WING, OFFICE 137B**

Ronna, Bram and Otto all sat around disputed office 137B in their formalwear. Bram was on the phone, Otto tried to look at home, and Ronna just seemed jumpy.

Bram hung up and looked between the other two. "So Annabeth says that from reports to the Inaugural Committee headquarters, it went off without a hitch and they are headed to the next ball. The President spoke for a few minutes, there was a moment of silence for the soldiers and then Faith Hill and Tim McGraw sang Proud to be an American and the First Couple danced. "

"They danced to that?" Ronna practically scoffed.

"I guess." Bram shrugged.

"How do you dance to that song?"

"I suppose they swayed. How do I know? Annabeth just told me that she heard it worked very well. From that song, they were able to work it back into a party atmosphere."

"Right. Party atmosphere." Ronna sat back in her chair glumly.

Otto watched her a moment before asking, "You got all the info to Josh about the soldier's families?" When Ronna nodded, he waved towards the door. "Then you should go meet up with them."

That perked her up mightily. "Really? You don't need me?"

He shook his head. "It's been quiet so far and you stayed behind in order to get the information. You've done that. Besides, you're all dressed up, no need to waste that here on Wally and me."

"Who?" Bram asked.

Ronna ignored the Leave it to Beaver reference, and Otto ignored Bram's question. "Can you guys come, too?" 

Bram shook his head. "We'll catch up in an hour or so if it stays quiet. Otto's right." Bram grimaced as if it pained him to admit that. "Go on."

"Well if you don't mind." Ronna was already on her feet, gathering her belongings.

"Call Annabeth, she should be able to tell you which ball to head towards in order to meet them...." Bram called after her, but she was already gone. 

Now it was just the two men in the office. 

After a minute Bram grumped to Otto, "I suppose you want me to get my stuff out of here?"

"Well, seeing as it's my office, I think that would be best. Unless you want to give me your…" He picked up an offending object and looked at it curiously. "Sports Illustrated swimsuit-a-day calendar. Are there really 365 different pictures of models in bikinis in this thing?"

Before Bram could answer, one of the press aides knocked on the open door. Both Bram and Otto looked up at him expectantly.

"There's something online I think you guys should see."

**CUT TO:  
INT. OMNI SHOREHAM HOTEL**

A tuxedo-clad arm reached around in front of Donna, holding a glass of wine.

She didn't turn around, but smiled. "For me?"

"For you."

"I thought you'd forgotten me." Donna hadn't had a moment alone with him since her office at the start of the evening.

"Never," Josh replied.

"How's the President?" Donna took a sip of wine and studied him over the glass.

"He's having trouble reconciling dancing and champagne with deaths in Kazakhstan, but he's putting up a good front."

Donna frowned sympathetically. "How were the calls?"

Josh just shook his head as a sad look passed across his face. "It was tough. I wasn't in the room very often when President Bartlet did that."

"He was good at it," Donna replied softly.

"How do you know?" Josh craned his neck to the side in question.

"My parents told me."

"Your parents?"

"Yes, he called them on Memorial Day."

Josh froze, and that familiar feeling of terror that hit him any time he was reminded of Gaza sent a jolt to his gut. It turned him slightly pale, but he managed to utter, "Right, of course he did."

Donna saw his discomfort and quickly changed the topic; it never ceased to amaze her that the subject of Gaza was more painful for him than for her. Pasting a smile on her face, she tried for coy when she asked, "You know, we have been to a number of balls already this evening already and you've yet to dance with me."

At Donna’s smile, Josh’s anxiety dissipated into comfort. "What do you think we ought to do about that?"

"I think you should ask me to dance."

"To this?" Josh looked frightened.

"What's wrong with this?"

"Isn't it a little… fast?"

"Joshua, are you telling me you're not Livin' La Vida Loca tonight?"

"Oh, I'm crazy all right…" He lifted an eyebrow at her. "Crazy about-"

But he wasn't able to finish his sentence because just then, Sam descended on them from out of the crowd.

Out of breath, he charged, "Josh, I've been looking for you!"

Josh looked taken aback. "Me? I've been with the President making the calls between stops. Where have you been?" Josh glanced at Donna for confirmation. "We haven't seen you for… two balls."

"Something's up. We need to get away from the ears of the ballroom," Sam replied as he motioned towards the exit.

Josh shot Donna an apologetic frown. "You coming?"

Not wanting to get in Josh's way, she nodded to the stage. "Go ahead, I'm gonna hang with Ricky a little longer."

But she watched a bit wistfully as he left to take care of business with Sam. 

**CUT TO:  
INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER. **

Ronna loved the Chinese-inspired gown she'd finally chosen for the evening, but she was the first to admit it wasn't the easiest thing to walk in. And now it was downright annoying her as she tried to make her way up several steps in it. Or it might not have been the gown; it might have been the way the evening had unfolded. She'd been dressed for hours and she was yet to attend her first ball in the Chinese-inspired-gown-that-was-hard-to-walk-in. 

The offending-yet-lovely garment was sleeveless and in two pieces. The collar was high on her neck but open at her throat, and the skirt was slim and to the floor—thus the hard to walk part. The dark cherry-colored Chinese silk was heavy and had a subtle gold design embroidered on it. Subtle in that it was abstract and you couldn’t tell what the heck the design was, exactly.

Once she'd entered the "Presidential" entrance—as opposed to the entrances the ticketed masses used-- to the Washington Convention Center, she quickly ascertained that the President was not at any of the three balls taking place at that location. Yet.

After flashing her new White House ID and having a search of her possessions stop just short of the body-cavity level, she was pointed to a small control room. It was adjacent to a much larger room that appeared to be security. She deduced this because through a door on the other side of the room she could see Secret Service agents, as well as DC police and Convention Center security, watching dozens of monitors. In the smaller room was a lone woman; she was bent over some scattered pieces of paper on a table and appeared to be studying them intently.

"Excuse me."

Startled, the woman looked up and Ronna realized she'd been on the phone. The woman mouthed 'one second' and then smiled appreciatively when Ronna gave her a 'no problem' sort of wave. Although there were a few banks of monitors in the room showing activities at the balls, Ronna was instead spellbound by the woman before her. She appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Her dress was black, attractive, but entirely nondescript—a safe but flattering fashion choice. She had dark dirty blonde hair – the color most women choose to either dye lighter into a full glossy blonde, or deeper into a striking brunette. This woman had chosen neither, but Ronna noted that it definitely worked for her. Tonight it was pulled back into a so-messy-it's-chic ponytail, and while she was obviously wearing makeup, she'd chosen shimmering nudes which accentuated her pretty, but not overpowering, features– a stark contrast to the cherry-red lips and smoky eyes Ronna had painted on for the evening. 

It was less than 30 seconds before the woman got off the phone, straightened up, and met Ronna's eye with a welcoming smile. "I apologize for that; what can I do for you?"

"Hi." Ronna held out her ID badge. "I'm—

"Ronna Beckman. The President's secretary," the woman finished for her, but without looking at the badge.

Ronna was taken aback. She'd never seen this woman in her entire life. "How did you know?"

The woman reached to the table over which she'd been leaning earlier and held up a page of headshots. It contained photos and names of the inner circle, all the staffers who were supposed to be traveling with the President tonight. "Cheat sheet. The Inaugural Committee wants to make sure you all get the VIP treatment, but please don't tell anyone my secret." 

"I see." Ronna tried to keep a straight face, but her lips quirked. "Very impressive. I feel extremely important, so job well done." The woman laughed and Ronna wasn't sure what possessed her—since she needed to know where the President was and she needed to know now—but instead of pressing her for information, she leaned down and towards the woman in order to get a glimpse of her ID badge. "And you're Ruth Moskowitz, the Site Communications Coordinator. Except you've gotten much younger and significantly more attractive since this picture was taken."

The woman chortled with laughter again and then offered her hand to Ronna in introduction. "Thank you for that effusive compliment, since Ruth is past sixty and has gray hair to her navel. My name's Claire. I was supposed to be volunteering in the ballroom tonight. But Ruth…" Ronna was very sorry when Claire let go of her hand to point to Ruth's photo around her neck. "…and I happen to work together at our regular jobs-- we're both lobbyists, by the way-- and she fell terribly ill earlier." Claire leaned forward in order to whisper, "Do NOT eat the shrimp," and Ronna felt her cheek involuntarily tingle where the other woman's breath touched her skin. Claire leaned back after delivering the secretive warning, apparently oblivious to the tingles she'd also just delivered to Ronna. "Long story short, she knew I'm fully vetted. So bingo, I suddenly find myself moved up the volunteer ladder and acting as Ruth the Site Comm Coordinator. I'm stuck up here all night getting and-- once he gets here-- giving, Presidential movement updates to the Inaugural Committee headquarters."

A bit overcome at the woman's extensive monologue, not to mention the woman herself, Ronna stared at her. 

When Ronna didn't speak, Claire prodded, "So can I help you with something?"

"Oh…" Embarrassed, Ronna shook her head to clear it. "I'm meeting up with the Presidential entourage and I take it I've beaten them here?"

"Yes, I was just getting an update when you walked in. They're at least 45 minutes away. Which probably means more like an hour and a quarter."

"An hour!?" Ronna practically screeched. How had she mistimed it so badly? She should have gone to the Omni.

**CUT TO:  
INT. OMNI SHOREHAM HOTEL BALLROOM  
INT. THE WEST WING, OFFICE 137 B**

"What's going on?" Lou was all business as she spoke into her cell phone, long having since ditched her wrap. It now lay across a stool next to her, her bare arms and every tattoo on full display. One arm was raised so she could press a hand over her free ear in order to block out the noise of the party. 

"There's an angle to the helicopter crash story that started on a blog, but Drudge is already linking to it and running a headline. If there's any merit to it, I think we only have until morning before it's picked up by legitimate news outlets."

"Tell me."

"What do you know about the Army's helicopter fleet?" Otto asked.

"About as much as you know about shaving."

Otto ignored the dig, but took her meaning. "The helicopter that crashed is a Vietnam-era Kiowa Warrior. The recommended active combat life of that aircraft is only 30 years. They were introduced in 1971 and the current fleet of Kiowa Warriors was due to be replaced in 2001."

"What happened?"

"Military budget cuts, I would guess, but I'm not sure. Currently, the Kiowa Warrior fleet isn't scheduled to be retired until 2008. So the story on Drudge is-"

Lou interrupted him and dryly continued the train of thought. "The story on Drudge is that the Bartlet administration-- and thus all Democrats, which not-so-coincidentally include us—are not strong on defense and specifically, are weak on defense spending. And because of that, we've sent American kids into combat with old, unsafe equipment and put them in unnecessary danger while spending money on frivolous things such as schools and feeding starving children."

"How did you do that?" Otto asked, slightly in awe. "That's exactly what the story is." 

"It's not my first day at the barn dance."

"What do you want to do?"

"This is what we're going to do." Lou said it at the same time Otto was asking the same question. "I'm going to talk to Josh, Sam and the President, and you're going to find a way for us to neutralize this story by morning. I have a feeling the Defense Department might just jump at the chance to make a case for increased defense spending; they already want more troops. If this becomes a real thing, it could derail the education plan and anything else we want to spend money on our first year."

"Did you say you want *me* to find a way to neutralize the threat? How am I supposed to do that? Tonight?"

"You were the one who wanted more responsibility; well, you got it, Deputy. If you want to work at this level, you better figure it out." 

"But it's late and half of Washington is at the balls, and the other half is not going to want to give me any information..."

"I don't care how you do, just do it,” Lou snapped. “Find out exactly why those helicopters weren't replaced five years ago. Don't let me down… I'll be in touch." And with that, she flipped her phone closed. 

For a moment, Otto looked stunned, but Bram shook him out of it a second later by asking, "What did she say?"

Otto was about to relay his impossible task to Bram, when an inner light bulb suddenly clicked on. "Call Annabeth at the IC headquarters; see if she can get a 1020 on the Secretary of Defense and the National Security Advisor tonight." 

"A 1020?"

"Have you never watched a cop show? Location, see if you can get their location. What ball is each of them at?" 

Bram smirked at Otto. "Should I sound like I'm on Miami Vice when Annabeth answers? If I'd known this was going to happen, I would have forgone the tux and just worn a white suit with the pink T-shirt. It would have been a cheaper rental."

"Just call!" Otto commanded and then swallowed hard. "Please."

Seeing his obvious distress, Bram picked up the phone and dialed as Otto went into the hall to find the press aide who'd discovered the blog story earlier. 

**CUT TO:  
INT. OMNI SHOREHAM HOTEL – BACKSTAGE**

"What is it?" Josh’s voice was low, even though they appeared to be the only two in the large holding area.

"It's Toby."

"What about him; have you talked to him?" Josh asked with surprise.

"No." Sam shook his head vigorously. "Andi found me earlier. It's his pardon. It's going to be a thing."

"What kind of thing?" Josh asked warily.

"The kind of thing that keeps Baker from getting confirmed."

Josh reached up and rubbed his eyes with his hands roughly, then looked at Sam. "Clemency?"

"Republicans are gonna use it, pound him at the hearings from every angle."

"Can you remember his vetting? Anything iffy on pardons?"

"Nothing that stuck out."

"Talk to him." Josh's voice was intense. "As soon as possible."

"I've been looking for him, that's where I was. I called Annabeth and got his schedule. He's working the balls backwards from us, so I tried to catch him at the Armory. No luck. However, we should intersect at the Convention Center next." 

Josh looked at his watch and realized they were running very behind schedule. "Go now, go ahead of us, and make sure you don't miss him. We need to know if there was anything about his pardon record as Governor that'll bite us."

"Right." Sam nodded and started heading for the door.

"And Sam."

"Yeah?" He turned back.

"Find out what his actual opinion on Toby's pardon is, and then make sure he doesn’t tell a soul beside you."

**CUT TO:  
INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER, SITE COMMAND**

"I'm sorry." Claire grimaced at Ronna's obvious distress at the news that the Presidential entourage was still almost an hour away from the Washington Convention Center.

"Oh no, I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I'm just…" Ronna shrugged apologetically. "A little frazzled."

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

Ronna knit her brows in concentration. What to do? She did not want to get back in the car. "I'm just trying to figure out if I should stay here, or try and meet them at the stop before they come here."

"Stay here," Claire responded almost too quickly.

"Really?" Ronna asked, feeling very intrigued by Claire's decisive suggestion. Maybe she was interested…

"Traffic is snarled around the Omni. Without benefit of the street blockades for the motorcade, you'll never make it."

…or maybe not and she was just efficient. "Thanks, I will stay." But Ronna did sigh with relief at not having to go back out into the night and traffic. And her desire to stay had nothing to do with the fact that U2 was performing in the ballroom of the Convention Center… or the intriguing, talkative, possibly-interested woman standing in front of her. 

"Good, you should go down and enjoy the balls for awhile before they get here," Claire encouraged, and Ronna felt a pang of disappointment that she now seemed to be trying to get rid of her. But at the same time, Ronna looked longingly over at the security monitors that showed the parties in full swing.

Still, she shook her head. "I don't want to miss them. Again." She also wasn't sure she found the idea of leaving her new, extremely attractive acquaintance all that appealing, either.

"Do you have a phone or pager? I'll call you when they show." 

"Really?" Ronna couldn't help it; her eyes lit up. She did want to see the inside of at least one inaugural ball.

"Sure." Claire smiled at her and motioned to the monitors. "I see all."

Ronna shook her head again. "I'm sure it's so loud in there, I'll never hear it, and there's nowhere to clip it to this dress."

Claire studied her for a minute. "Let me see it."

Ronna wasn't sure what Claire was up to, but she acquiesced, taking the pager out of her evening purse and handing it to the stranger. 

After studying it a second, Claire jotted down the number. "We'll just put it on vibrate… now, arms up…" she ordered. Once again Ronna cooperated, but froze instantly when she felt Claire's fingers on her bare skin through the armhole of her dress. What was she doing?? It was a full second later when her breath caught, her eyes went wide and her heart rate started to race-- that was when she felt the other woman's fingers actually flit under the side of her bra. Was Claire hitting on her? But Ronna wasn't sure, because it only lasted a few seconds. Claire fastened her beeper right under her arm but on the inside of her bra, then pulled back and surveyed her work.

"Perfect, you'll certainly be able to feel that if it goes off. Thank goodness the silk of your dress is so stiff; you can't even see you've got anything under there." She patted the area that concealed the beeper and Ronna thought she might fall over from the contact, contact that didn't seem to faze Claire in the slightest. Maybe she wasn't hitting on her. "It's a beautiful dress, by the way. I love the dragons." 

"Dragons?" Ronna asked once her mind had cleared from all the close proximity.

Claire motioned to Ronna's gown. "Sure, these gold embroidered dragons. I love 'em."

Ronna craned her neck so that she could study the fabric. "I had no idea they were dragons. I thought they were just abstract… thingies. Chinese thingies."

"Chinese thingies?" Claire laughed loudly and touched Ronna’s dress right above her chest. "Well you have to be right up close and personal to notice, but they are indeed dragons."

"Good catch," Ronna squeaked, more interested in the way her body responded to Claire's touch than the design of her gown.

“Now go…" She steered Ronna out of the room. "Have a good time, show off the dress and I'll page you when they get here."

Stunned, Ronna walked away, having no idea what had just happened, but feeling like she'd been hit by a speeding freight train with fantastic dirty-blonde hair. 

**CUT TO:  
INT. OMNI SHOREHAM HOTEL**

"I see you've been abandoned, too." 

"Yes, Ma'am," Donna replied as the First Lady approached from the direction of the Omni's ballroom. 

Helen linked her arm through Donna's as she looked around the backstage area, which had been set up as a VIP section for the President's entrance and exit. "How long have we been here, or the better question is-- is it time to go?"

"Well if you go by the schedule, we should have left this ball over 45 minutes ago."

"So we're 45 minutes behind?"

"If we leave right this second, which doesn’t look like it's going to happen. But truthfully, that's not so bad for our fourth ball of the night, especially after the… delays with the helicopter crash." 

"So maybe people get tired of waiting for us, pack it in and we won't have to even go to the ninth ball."

That comment made Donna giggle. "Unfortunately, everyone's going to wait for us. The good news is that the next three balls are in the same location. Although we'll have to take golf carts to get between them."

"The Convention Center," Helen guessed correctly. "Well, we know where to go, so what do we need the guys for? Side-by-side, we will greet each and every one of the painfully boring people waiting for my husband… together. You don't think anyone will notice if he's not around, do you?"

Donna laughed, but before she could say anything else, Helen continued.

"Except here come the boys. Typical… they abandon us, we make a plan without them, and then they show up."

"Hmm?" She turned to see Josh and the President heading towards them.

The President dropped a kiss on his wife's cheek before apologizing. "I'm sorry-"

But she held up her hand. "Let’s waste no time on apologies and just enjoy the few moments we have together. Although, I take it we probably have to leave here shortly?"

"We should probably head towards the motorcade," Josh replied as he settled his hand on the warm skin of Donna's lower back. At his touch, Donna gave a tiny jump as a shiver ran up her spine. It was a good shiver. 

As the four of them turned and started walking towards the back entrance of the hotel, Helen asked, "Did you know Donna has a mind for trivia?"

Josh looked over at Donna in a teasing manner. "Oh no, you're at it again?"

"Again?" Helen questioned, sounding positively delighted as Donna nudged Josh with her shoulder in retaliation.

"Yes, Ma'am, this was probably something you should have been warned about before you decided to hire her away from us. In fact, if you find you just can't live with it in the East Wing, we might just bite the bullet and take her back."

"Are you kidding?" Helen asked. "I love knowing that FDR didn't show to any of his own Inaugural Balls." 

Donna couldn't help but clarify. "He only skipped the first one in 1933, worked straight through it. He actually outright cancelled the other three."

"See!" Helen exclaimed. "It's terrific, how does she know this stuff?"

"She's a freak," Josh deadpanned, but looked over at her with what could only be termed an adoring expression.

Matt just laughed and shook his head, pleased to have a few minutes to enjoy the evening with friends. But that was short-lived as Lou approached the quartet, looking mighty harried and dragging her wrap behind her. They stopped in their tracks.

"What is it?" The President inquired at her almost disheveled appearance.

"Sir, a media angle on the crash. I need a few minutes with you and Josh."

"We're just about to head to the next location."

"Perhaps we can talk on the way?" Lou suggested anxiously.

Helen waved her hand. "That's okay, you guys talk and I'll ride with Donna."

"Honey, you don't have to, you can ride with us."

"No problem, I'll see you there." With that, she leaned up, kissed her husband, and then disappeared into the other limo.

**CUT TO:  
INT. AIR & SPACE MUSEUM**

"Do you know him?" Bram asked as he squinted.

"I met him during transition," Otto replied distractedly.

"Me, too, but I don't think I can pick him out in here. How about you?"

"I know he's wearing a tux," Otto responded as the two men looked out over the sea of tuxes, obscured even more by the dramatic lighting of the museum. 

"It's a penguin convention in here; I'm going to need more than that to go on," Bram snorted. Then, looking on the fact sheet they'd printed at the White House, he pondered, "What would a guy named Glenwood Marcel Moorhead look like?"

"Someone who got beaten up on the playground. A lot."

"Big words coming from a grown man named Otto."

"Those named 'Bram' shouldn't throw stones," Otto retorted before lamenting, "We should have called Ronna back to come with us; she'd know what Glen looks like. She remembers details… wait, that guy." He pointed to the middle of the room.

"That's the National Security Advisor?"

"I sure hope so," Otto replied as he started down the steps and into the crowded room.

**CUT TO:  
INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER, SITE COMM CENTER**

Ronna stood outside the small room where she'd met Claire… reticent to go in. It was clear by the look on her face and her posture that she didn't know exactly what she was doing. She held two glasses of wine, but wished she had a free hand to tame her hair and smooth her dress. But it wasn't to be, and finally, she got up the nerve to step into the doorway. "Hi."

Claire looked up with a puzzled frown. "What are you doing back so soon? I didn't page yet."

"It was so… uh… hot and crowded… and I thought you might like the company and some… refreshment…" In her fidgety state, she held up the wine in a perfectly maladroit manner and almost sloshed some over the side. She chastised herself internally; at one point in her life, she'd been smooth at this. Had the campaign wrung it all out of her?

But Claire must not have noticed because she simply smiled and waved her in, while shutting the door on the other side of the room.

**CUT TO:  
INT. PRESIDENTIAL LIMO **

"Otto and Bram are tracking down the reason they didn't replace the fleet in 2001, but as a pilot, what's your thought on the story, Sir?" Lou asked after giving the President, Josh and Lester a rundown of the story from the blog.

Santos shook his head and explained, "The age of an aircraft has very little to do with its operability. If the original aircraft is reliable in the first place, then with proper maintenance and upgraded avionics it can long outlive its original lifespan." 

"And the Kiowa Warrior."

"If it wasn't reliable it wouldn't still be in the field 35 years later. I'm not sure specifically… helicopters tend to be more sensitive to the environment they fly in. However, I would be shocked if the official report comes back from the crash and it's blamed on the age of the aircraft."

Lester turned to the Chief of Staff. "Josh?"

He had been sitting back, listening to the entire exchange, absorbing the info from the President. "Sounds like story was pulled out of thin air. When Otto reports, let me know, and I want more information about where the story came from."

**CUT TO:  
INT. CHIEF OF STAFF LIMO **

"Well, so far this night is a dream come true." Helen exclaimed with mild sarcasm, but no real bite.

Donna laughed sincerely in reply.

"You know when we spent weeks picking this dress; I thought we might spend a little more time, you know, enjoying the whole thing."

"Things come up. They always do." Donna replied with the calm acceptance of someone who'd been in the world for years. "The important thing is that you're a hit so far. The crowds love the First Couple and you and the President have only stumbled once while dancing."

Helen's eyes went wide in embarrassment.

Donna smirked. "I'm sure Carlos Santana, and of course myself, were the only ones who saw it." 

Helen rolled her eyes but smile. "They really went heavy on the Latino entertainers for tonight, didn't they?"

"Sure did… and there are a few more to come, but don't worry I heard they drew the line at asking Jennifer Lopez."

"Phew." Helen wiped fake sweat from her brow.

"But we do have a treat coming. A certain Irish rocker with a social conscious."

Helen's eyes lit up. "That will be fun… and at the ball before this one I'll have you know that little Usher made eyes at me. Matt better be careful or I might run off with Usher. What kind of scandal would that cause?"

"A delicious one." Donna returned the joke.

Helen took a deep-breath after she laughed. "He's been busy every second that he hasn't been on stage; I've even had to greet most of the VIP's alone."

"It's that crash. At least tonight it's the crash. But the cold hard truth is that he's never off duty. Actually, none of us are." Donna turned to look out the window. Sort of wishing she really wasn't off duty. 

**FADE TO BLACK - END ACT 2**


	4. ACT 3

**CUT TO:  
INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER, HALL C**

"Lester Charles, as I live and breathe."

At the sound of his name, the Press Secretary—who'd been looking for a restroom and then possibly an adult beverage-- whipped around, and his eyes went wide in recognition. 

"Homeboy makes it to the big time and looks good doing it. Mmm-hmm! You know that back home you're all anyone's talkin' 'bout."

Lester's face spread into a huge grin. "Is that my baby sister's best friend? Troublemaking Cherry Washington, the heartbreaker of East High?"

"Nobody calls me Cherry anymore, Lester." The woman had dropped the affected accent of a few moments earlier. "I've dropped that nickname… a nickname you helped give me, if I remember correctly. I find that in the professional world, if your name is Cherry, people tend to assume you're a reformed porn star. I go by my given name of Sherrie now." 

That just made him grin even harder. "You look good. What are you doing here, Cherry?" He said her nickname in such a way that she knew was tweaking her. 

She quirked her lip at him. "You think you're the only person from the neighborhood to make it?"

"Well, no one ever doubted you were going to be a success. Last time I heard… weren't you a big shot in a marketing firm… doing PR for restaurants and nightclubs?"

"I was. How do you think I scored Inaugural Ball tickets? You have no idea how many people want to get into the exclusive private parties, so if you control tickets to those, it's easy to make a trade."

"So you're still doing PR?" He asked almost rhetorically.

"Actually, I-"

"Are you here with anybody?" He interrupted as his eyes zipped up and down her. She was wearing a silky lavender gown that hugged her curves and nicely complemented her light ebony skin. Friend of his little sister's or no, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. 

"No. But I should tell you-"

"Good!" His eyes lit up at the prospect. "Keep me company for awhile. We can catch up."

"No date?" She asked incredulously. When he shook his head, she continued, "How does a man like you not have a date? You always had a date."

"There was this woman from the campaign…" He thought back to Edie. "But that fizzled and you have no idea how much time is required when you work in the White House. Or at least, when you are preparing to work in the White House, but in truth I have no hope that it's going to get better any time soon," he replied as he started walking backwards, tugging her with him. 

"Are you sure?" she asked, feeling caught in a whirlwind. 

"Come on. Hang with me for awhile; who knows, you might meet some very interesting people."

**CUT TO:  
INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER MAIN BALLROOM**

"…Governor, in this scenario, in a scenario where clemency will be the overriding issue during your confirmation hearings… how bad will it be?" It had taken Sam at least half an hour to find the Governor once he'd arrived at the Convention Center. Baker didn't seem to be entirely comfortable having a conversation on this subject in an alcove of the crowded ballroom.

The Governor leaned in, bringing his voice as low as possible. "Let's see… what got a lot of media attention. Oh, I expunged the records of some 120 odd people who had been convicted of war crimes during the First World War under speech laws that seem positively barbaric today."

"Okay, that shouldn't really cause any problems. What else? " 

Baker looked contemplative before explaining, "Pennsylvania has a Board of Pardons, so every petition is reviewed and must receive a majority recommendation from the Board before being granted a pardon, so the governor doesn't have carte blanche. However, there was a case that could be considered… controversial in hearings, if they dig deep enough."

"They'll dig as deep as they need to. How bad?" Sam asked once again.

"It could be bad." Baker lifted a hand and ran it through his hair. "The merit of the pardon itself won't necessarily raise any eyebrows, but there is a link.”

"What kind of a link?" Sam asked with caution.

"A link between myself and the pardoned. The man who was pardoned was a former business partner of a large contributor to my first gubernatorial campaign."

"You knew this and you pardoned him anyway?"

"I did."

"Okay." Sam's mind was spinning a mile a minute, but there was no way to assess the potential damage until he was able to look at all the facts of the case. "And what will you say if they ask your opinion on Toby Ziegler's pardon?"

Baker lifted his head and looked Sam in the eye. "I'll tell them that he should have fried for leaking defense secrets, and that Bartlet let an enemy of the state go scot-free."

**CUT TO:  
INT: INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER HALL C**

Donna looked around the crowded exhibit hall that had been transformed quite serviceably into a gigantic ballroom. She noted that the use of balloons was a bit much; there were gold ones everywhere, forming an almost solid gold backdrop—she could just hear the prom jokes Lou would make. As soon as the motorcade had arrived, she'd headed to the ladies’ room while Josh had gone to get them drinks. Now as she scanned the crowd, she didn't see Josh, but she did see someone else walking towards her. 

"Donna Moss. What's a girl like you doing at a place like this?"

"I could ask you the same thing; aren't you a Republican?" She asked pointedly, but in not an entirely unfriendly manner.

"You forget my short, but storied tenure with the Bartlet administration." Cliff Calley put his hand to his chest as if he were wounded. "Besides, I'm back to lobbying, which means I lean the direction the wind blows."

"I see…" There was a laugh in her voice at his candor.

"May I say you look lovely this evening?" He reached for her hand and then lifted it to press a kiss to the back of it.

She smiled graciously at him, although felt mildly uncomfortable at his effusive attention. "Thank you."

"I'm really glad I ran into you." 

"You are?" She asked with unconcealed surprise.

"Yes, we never had that dinner you promised me. You've been back after Super Tuesday for quite awhile now, so I'm thinking after all this time you owe me two dinners."

"I promised you, did I?" She raised a brow skeptically at him.

"My recollection says you did. So how about it… can we make a date? Or two?"

"Um…" Donna grimaced, not sure what to say. So far she really hadn't had to tell people she was with Josh. Either they were in the inner circle and knew because of Josh and Donna’s vacation and living arrangements, or they didn't and there was no reason to tell them. After years of having to tell people they weren't actually a couple, this was a new and different dilemma. 

But just then she felt a familiar presence at her side. "What's goin' on here?" Josh's voice held way too much forced joviality. Instantly she knew he'd heard him ask her out. For his part, Josh tried to keep the severe dislike off his face and out of his voice as he greeted the other man through a stiff, fake grin. "Cliff."

"Josh." Cliff nodded in return, also sounding slightly put-out by the Chief of Staff's appearance.

"So you were asking out my date when I was walking up; do you need a minute?" Josh's voice and smile were both still fake as he handed Donna her drink and then slipped his arm behind her back, a tad more possessively than his normal posture would have allowed.

"Date?" Cliff's question rang with genuine shock.

Donna bit her lip and nodded quickly. She was pretty sure she might be blushing under his new scrutiny. 

"A real date? He's not just dragging you around everywhere with him like he used to?"

Now her eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes, a real date." 

"Really? Wow. Well… uh… congratulations, man, for finally pulling your head out of your…" He thought better of what he was saying to the Chief of Staff of the United States and finished, "… I mean, taking the blinders off."

Before Josh could say anything Cliff bowed slightly towards Donna. "Donna, always a pleasure." He looked at Josh. "Better be good to her; if I hear otherwise, I'm giving her a call." He winked at her and walked away.

Stunned, Josh's mouth gaped open and Donna pressed her lips together, trying not to giggle. Finally, Josh was able to half-yell, "You'll have to call her at my house." 

Amused, Donna turned to look at him.

"I leave you alone for two seconds and you were making a date?" His voice was joking, but there was a hint of hurt in his eyes.

"How else am I supposed to get possessive caveman Josh to come out and play?" When his eyes bugged out, she swatted his arm. "I'm kidding. Of course I wasn't making a date. I guess not everyone knows we're… you know… together these days."

Josh took a second to digest that. "I guess we haven't really been out much."

"Or, you know, at all."

"Maybe I should take out an ad on the front page of the paper, announcing you're off the market." He pulled her even tighter to him to make his point.

Donna shuddered, but didn't resist his embrace. "Don't even joke about that."

Josh was going to rib her some more, but just then he noticed Lester crossing in front of them. He released his grip on Donna slightly and called, "Hey, Lester." 

Lester looked startled for a moment before he realized he'd stumbled onto people he was with. "Hey Josh, Donna. This place is so cavernous I never thought I'd find any of you again."

Donna looked around him and noticed the woman who'd been walking on his other side. "But you managed to find a friend?"

"I did," he replied enthusiastically and moved aside so Sherrie could join the newly forming circle. "This is Sherrie Washington; we grew up together. She's my little sister's best friend in the world. Donna Moss and Josh Lyman."

"Nice to meet you-" Donna was in the middle of greeting her warmly when Lou barged into the circle. By this point, her wrap was gone completely, and she must have run across a #2 pencil at one of the balls, because one was currently stuck in her hair, holding it in a sloppy, rudimentary bun. Wiry tendrils of hair were springing out in about a dozen haphazard directions from her head. 

"I need five minutes with Josh and Lester."

**CUT TO:  
INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER HALL C ALCOVE**

"Otto and Bram found Glen Moorhead," Lou announced after she'd dragged Lester and Josh to a quiet section of the ballroom.

Josh nodded his approval at them seeking out the new NSA. "Good thinking, he was at the Pentagon early in Bartlet's presidency. What did he say?" 

"Best of his recollection, they didn't retire the Warrior fleet because they didn't need to. Pushed it back and allocated the money elsewhere. The final decision was Miles Hutchinson's."

"Good. Tell them to get back to the White House. I want every details they can give me on the when and where of this blog story."

**CUT TO:  
INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER HALL C**

"So Sherrie," Donna turned to the woman, prepared to make small talk, which didn't seem like such a chore. "What do you do-"

"Donna!" A call from behind interrupted Donna's inquiry.

Donna froze at the very identifiable voice that was calling her name. Taking a deep breath, she pasted on a smile and turned, cursing Josh for leaving her to this fate… even if he had a good excuse.

"Amy, how are you this evening?" Donna didn't miss a beat before finding refuge in making introductions. "This is Sherrie…" she paused a moment to let the name come back to her "…Washington. She's a friend of Lester's."

"Hey." Amy spared the woman a lazy nod in greeting. 

"I like your dress," Donna added, because she really didn't have anything else to say. Amy wore a long, tight, shiny black dress that clung to her body like Saran Wrap. And yet, for how much it revealed, it was decidedly boring. One thing that meeting with all of Helen’s fashion consultants had taught her was not to wear black to this kind of occasion; it faded you right into the background. 

"Versace," Amy replied.

"Oh." Donna merely nodded and smiled.

"And I'm wonderful this evening; it's so nice not to have to work tonight. It's a relief not having to hit every single ball with the President. I can actually enjoy the evening."

Donna smiled inwardly, but nodded as if she agreed. They both knew it was a lie; it was never better to be farther away from the President. Feeling fortified by the fact that Donna herself was traveling with the President on Inauguration night, she adopted an interested expression and asked, "Where's your date? I'd like to meet your boyfriend."

"Oh, he can't stand putting on a tux, so I left him at home…" She reached back and gave a tug on someone behind her. "So instead I brought someone I could have a good time with. I believe you know Sarah Petrero." A woman materialized from the crowd behind Amy and was now standing at her side. 

"Yes." Donna stiffened and tried not to sound surprised at the other woman's presence. She remembered that it wasn't so long ago that Amy had wanted to set Josh up with Sarah, but like the confident pro she was, she quickly recovered. "Hi, Sarah, you look nice." She gestured to Lester's friend. "This is Sherrie Washington."

Sarah and Sherrie exchanged brief pleasantries, before Sarah turned to Donna. "Donna, I love your dress, and congratulations on being named Chief of-"

"Remember when I wanted to set Sarah up with Josh?" Amy interrupted with a jovial tone that sounded decidedly false. At the interruption, Sarah looked incredibly uncomfortable, Sherrie looked instantly intrigued, and Donna took a deep breath and set her jaw. 

"I do." Donna gave a reassuring smile to Sarah, who now, Donna noticed, looked like she wanted to throw up. 

"It's funny how things work out. Who would have thought that after ten years as his assistant, you would finally snag him. I'm sure there were a lot of people in this town who lost money on that bet. It was a surprise to all of us," Amy related with an oddly smug tone. She must have had more than a few glasses of champagne already.

Sherrie's eyes went wide; she had no idea she was going to be witness to such drama tonight. Lester had been right; she was meeting interesting people. However, Sarah now looked as if she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole, and Donna narrowed her eyes slightly. She was determined not to let Amy get to her, so she resisted the urge to remind her that she hadn't been Josh's assistant for over a year. 

"By the way, have you seen Josh at all tonight? I need to talk to him," Amy asked.

"Since he is my date, yes, I have seen him," Donna answered without giving her any information. 

"Of course, what was I thinking?" Amy looked behind her. "So where is he?"

"Is it an emergency?"

Amy laughed as if Donna had told a great joke. "Donna, you're not his assistant anymore; you don't have to screen access to him these days." Amy was trying to appear sincere, but as always, there was a subtle note of condescension in her voice.

"No, but with the helicopter crash in Kazakhstan and… other things, he already has enough on his plate tonight."

"Well, you don't have to worry about any of that important stuff anymore; you can leave that to those of us in the West Wing. You're in the East Wing; you can enjoy tonight. Eat, drink…" Amy pointed to the champagne glass in Donna's hand, apparently oblivious to the half-empty champagne glass in her own hand. "And be merry."

"Is that what you did when you were in the East Wing?"

"Well, Mrs. Bartlet and I were different than you and Helen."

"Mrs. Santos." Donna couldn't stop herself from correcting Amy.

"What?"

"I'd prefer it if you called her either Mrs. Santos or the First Lady when you refer to her in public."

"Oh, right." Amy was now looking around Donna. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I do see Josh." And just like that, Amy left the three women standing there in her wake. 

They stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before Sarah gushed, "I'm so sorry."

Donna quickly shook her head to stop her. "For what? There's no reason to apologize."

"No, really, I’m sorry. Amy's a friend of mine, but sometimes…"

"She likes to rattle cages?" Donna asked with a knowing smile.

"Exactly," she replied before raising her own champagne glass. "And we've had a few of these."

"Don't worry about it." Donna thought to herself that it'd been a long time since she'd let Amy rattle hers. A calendar would have told Donna it had only really been since Leo's memorial, but no need to get into specifics. Blissfully, through transition she'd had very limited contact with her.

Sherrie's eyes had narrowed shrewdly as she observed the dynamic between the two women.

"Listen, I really had nothing to do with her wanting to set me up with Josh. She suggested it and I wasn't opposed, but it wasn't my idea. I also had no idea you two were together-"

"It's all right…" Donna tried to wave her off, but the other woman, obviously nervous to be standing in front of Donna in the current situation, just kept babbling. 

"…I mean I'd heard the rumors about you two, everyone in Washington had heard the rumors about you two, and Amy had complained about your relationship, but I didn't know you were really a couple. If I'd known I never would have agreed to her setting me up. And I want you to know that I think you make a really good couple. Adorable. You're so perfect for one another. The way you're both Chiefs of Staff to the President and First Lady, it's so… it's a fairy tale and without a Vice President it's almost as if you two are the second couple. And absolutely everyone is rooting for you because of your history."

"Their history?" Sherrie couldn't help it; the question was out of her mouth by instinct.

"Oh yeah, you know, the way she worked for him all those years in the White House and then Josh was the one who was shot at Rosslyn and then Donna was the only surviving member of the CoDel a few years ago. You know, he dropped everything to fly to her. It's just so romantic that they finally found their way to be together, don't you think?"

"Uh…" Donna was stunned; Sarah's geyser-like outpouring had rendered her speechless. She’d had no idea anyone even realized she and Josh were together, let alone knew their history. She took a few deep breaths and remembered that Sarah had almost been set up with Josh. Heck, she was probably standing face-to-face with a charter member of Josh's fan club. That probably explained her overeager interest in them. Sarah had a crush on him and frankly, she couldn’t blame the woman for that. Donna breathed easier. No one else cared, just this possible fan-club member who'd had a thing for Josh. Meanwhile, it had become clear how Amy could be friends with this woman. Sarah was sweet, a tad naïve, and a bit bumbling-- clearly no threat to Amy. Clearing her throat, she forced a smile. "Well, Sarah, thank… uh… you, it was great to see you."

"Oh, great to see you, too. And nice to meet you." She nodded at Sherrie and then must have realized she'd been dismissed, because she turned and disappeared through the crowd.

"Oh my." Donna shook her head as though trying to clear it after sticking it in a fan. "I can't believe that." 

"What she said wasn't true?" Sherrie asked.

"No, it was pretty much all true, but it's just weird hearing it like that."

At that moment, Josh came up behind Donna and put his arms around her waist. Sherrie watched as he pressed a kiss to her cheek and she seemed to relax immediately.

"Can I steal her away?" Josh looked at Sherrie. "We're wanted on stage."

"Of course." Sherrie nodded with a smile. They seemed like nice people and really were a good-looking couple. She'd bet they were really photogenic.

As Donna turned in his arms, she asked quizzically, "On stage?"

"You wanted a dance earlier."

Donna's eyes lit up and she flashed a delighted smile at Sherrie as Josh dragged her away. 

As she watched them go, Sherrie made a split-second decision and quickly dug her cell phone out of her purse. 

"Ted? It's Sherrie Washington. I think I have a great human interest angle for you on the Inaugural coverage; do you have a photographer here at the Convention Center? Good, I need him in Hall C right now..."

**CUT TO:  
INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER, STAGE LEFT – HALL C**

"What did Amy want?" She asked, trying not to roll her eyes.

"To talk about some bill about welfare mothers and breast feeding that's never going to get through committee, nothing that can't wait until… never."

"That's what I thought," Donna replied knowingly.

"I was hoping tonight would be quiet," Josh lamented with almost a pout.

"What are you, new?" Donna asked with good-natured sarcasm. "Isn't it always like this?"

"Mmmm… let's see. Last time we were dealing with a major shift in military ideology and the operation in Kundu, bad quotes and snowballs."

Donna blushed, as she always did when bad quotes and snowballs were brought up, but didn't flinch because at the same time, he wrapped his arm around her and brought her closer. "This time it's pardons, helicopter crashes and the Army's aging air fleet. Did you know the Kiowa Warrior was supposed to be retired in 2001 but it was pushed to 2008 during our prior stay in office?"

"I did, actually."

"You didn't?" Josh spun towards her so they were now face-to-face.

"I did," she shrugged. "It was on the Defense budget breakdowns that were sent over from the Pentagon and were kept in your office. I was familiar with all of them." She crinkled her brow for a second. "If I remember correctly, the money that was freed went to the development of the F-22 Raptor. I remember that because there must have been a half dozen updates to the budget about it with the money rolling back and forth. Apparently, there was some wrangling and tension because it was the Army's idea to keep the Warriors in the field, but they wanted those funds. Instead the money was reallocated to the Air Force for the fighter planes."

In absolute awe, he took a moment to just stare at her. "Why aren't you working for me again? You would have saved Bram and Otto a lot of time if you'd been in on this tonight." He shook his head with both pride and frustration. 

"Funny you should mention that-" Donna started, but her voice was low and was suddenly obscured as Enrique Iglesias started singing right before them. 

He leaned into her ear. "I promised you a dance." 

Donna smiled and decided to just enjoy the moment; she’d worry about the rest later. "You wouldn't dance to Ricky, but you'll dance to Enrique?"

"I prefer Julio," he smarted. But he pulled her tightly to him and now they stood almost nose to nose. "But Enrique is acceptable."

"Good, but remember that in exactly two balls we're going to be seeing Bono, and you've promised that I can meet him."

"You think I'm introducing you to a rock star while you're talking about fighter jets and wearing that dress?"

"What's wrong with this dress?" she pouted.

"Nothing," he growled before kissing her full on the lips. 

A few moments later they parted, and she panted, "Okay, that was a really good answer, but should we be doing that in public?"

"No one can see us,” Josh replied with a grin. “We're offstage."

"Kay." Donna smiled as he kissed her again.

**CUT TO:  
INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER, SITE COMM CENTER, SAME TIME**

"Don't you need to be with the President?" Claire eyed her curiously as they sat watching the First Couple dance on one of the stages. 

"They wanted me to make some phone calls, so I had to be somewhere quiet. It's quiet here and I can see where they are on the monitors." After greeting the entourage, she'd taken the first excuse to come back and visit Claire. 

"See, if I could leave this room, I'd be down there."

Ignoring the implication that Ronna had no good reason to be hanging out with her—because she had to admit, she wasn't exactly sure why she was drawn to the small room and the probably-straight woman in the first place—she turned to smile inquisitively at Claire. Changing the subject, she asked, "So why did you volunteer to work tonight?" 

"I wanted to come to the ball."

"Ahhh… couldn't find tickets?"

"Not everyone works directly for the President and gets invited to ALL of them." Claire smirked at her.

Ronna admitted, "I know how it is. I worked for Matt Santos when he was a Congressman here in DC during Bartlet's second Inauguration; I didn't end up scoring tickets to anything."

"Well, I did find my way to a pair of tickets to the one at the Old Post Office, but Bono isn't playing that venue, so I volunteered here. Now, if Vinick had won, I'd be up to my eyeballs in-"

But Ronna had stopped listening. She interrupted excitedly, "You like Bono?"

"Of course."

"Me, too!" she squealed, in the way Ronna was prone to do when the subject turned to anything Bono related.

"He is to die for," Claire agreed with an amused look at Ronna's response, before demanding incredulously, "If you like him too, why aren't you down there meeting him? One of us has to! I would be meeting him if I had the chance." She added the last part a bit dreamily.

"Oh… uh…" she motioned to the monitors. "They're only at Hall C, still two balls away from Bono." But Ronna looked a little apprehensive, as if the excuse was thin even to her own ears. 

But Claire just nodded as if that made sense. They continued to watch the monitors. Ronna wasn't sure what to say, because she also felt a little deflated. It sounded as if Claire liked Bono, as in “found him sexually attractive,” and that wasn't good news. 

"Look, there's Josh Lyman." Claire pointed him out on the side of the stage. "Don't need a cheat sheet to pick him out. Wow, he looks surprisingly good in a tux."

"Watch a lot of coverage of the campaign, did you?" Ronna tried to sound conversational, but felt even more disheartened after Claire’s comment about Josh looking good. She was pretty sure it was a universal rule that lesbians didn't find Josh attractive, at all, tux or no. 

"Yeah, but that's not why. He's what you might call… notorious in my family. Whoa… whoa… whoa! Alert… he's totally kissing that woman." Claire picked up the cheat sheet of Presidential VIPs and then squinted back to the monitor. "Yup, I thought I recognized her—this time from the campaign-- that's definitely campaign spokeswoman Donna Moss… or, from this list, Chief of Staff to the First Lady Donna Moss." She turned to Ronna. "Are they together?"

Ronna looked suddenly like she was the one who'd been caught kissing. "I really couldn’t say…"

Her tone made Claire laugh. "I think the cat’s out of the bag, since they just made out on stage in front of thousands of people. Enrique Iglesias is singing about six feet to their right."

With alarm, Ronna studied the monitor. "No, see. They're offstage."

"Actually, there are tricky angles on that stage…" Claire punched up a different camera angle on the router. "…so it's hard to tell, but look." She pointed to the wide-shot on the screen. "If this camera can see them, then I'm pretty sure 80% of the audience can see them."

Ronna's eyes widened. "Oh, great."

"Problem?"

"It's just that if I know them, they didn't mean to do that. They tend to be private."

"As they have a right to be; whom someone sleeps with is no one else's business!" Claire replied somewhat vehemently.

"True." Ronna watched her out of the corner of her eye, becoming even more confused by Claire's sudden passion for the issue. They sat and watched for a moment, until Claire's comment from earlier finally hit her. "Wait, a few minutes ago did you say that if Vinick won, you could have had tickets to any ball?"

Claire nodded, but also grimaced at the same time. "I did."

"How?"

"I was kind of hoping you hadn't caught that; my mouth ran away with me. It tends to do that sometimes; I don't know if you've noticed. It's useful in lobbying, some of the time. The truth is that my father is an… uh… elected official."

Ronna's jaw swung loose before she asked, "A Republican?"

Claire nodded.

"You're a Republican?" Her tone would have been the same if she'd been questioning whether someone was a Nazi. She didn't know any girls who played for her team and were also Republican; things were looking dire on that front. Her radar must be on the fritz. 

Claire tried not to look offended at the assumption, but she obviously was. "What… my Dad's Republican, so I must be, too?"

"No…sorry, of course not." Ronna quickly backtracked. "It's just my experience with political families is that it sort of…stays in the family. Loyalty and all that..." she finished lamely.

"Oh, well, we were all in the family until about three years ago, but I'm not the one who changed loyalties."

"Three years ago?" Ronna asked as she visibly started putting two and two together.

Claire nodded and a chagrined look stole over her face. 

"Are you saying your father is Senator Chris Carrick of Idaho?" 

She nodded with a grimace.

"Oh." It was the only response Ronna could find. 

"That's not a good 'oh,' is it?" Claire asked cautiously.

"No, no… it's... fine. It's just… I have only been in the West Wing a few hours, but I know from transition that we anticipate your father to be one of the biggest stumbling blocks with confirming a VP." Ronna pushed herself into a standing position and clumsily forced herself to try to appear unbothered as she looked down at the other woman. "Uh… they're taking a bow, must mean they're leaving… I should catch up with them. Thanks so much for your kindness." Ronna didn't meet her eye. "It was nice meeting you."

Befuddled, Claire watched her go before calling, "I like Baker!" after Ronna's quickly retreating form. 

**CUT TO:  
INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER, HALL C – PHOTOGRAPHER POOL**

"I've got some good ones of the two of them, and also with the President and First Lady. The gold backdrop is really making them pop. I can't believe they were canoodling like that on stage; it was perfect. You want me to keep going?" 

"Don't stop until they're offstage." Sherrie tried to sound confident; meanwhile, the acid in her stomach was churning in a nervous pit. There was no turning back now. 

**FADE TO BLACK – END OF ACT 3**


	5. ACT 4

**CUT TO:  
INT: WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER HALL B**

"I tell you, the last one I thought was going to bring the house down." But Senator Edward McBain laughed heartily as he made his pronouncement. The man obviously liked an audience. His current one included Josh, Donna, and his wife-- whose first name had been given to her by her Hungarian emigrant parents and was so hard to pronounce that she just went by 'Sassy.'

Sassy McBain brushed his shoulder playfully. "Edward, don't be so melodramatic; we haven't had one that's been over a 3.0 in five years. Just the normal tremors that happen when you live near the Cascades." The woman proclaimed it as only a proud native could. 

"Aren't there 13 active volcanoes in the Cascades, Mrs. McBain?" Donna asked with her usual panache for trivial information.

"That's exactly right!" she replied with obvious pleasure at Donna's knowledge of her region. "And please call me Sassy. All my friends do."

Donna smiled inwardly at the request. 

"Actually, I have heard that there's been increased seismic activity up in your neck of the woods lately, Senator," Josh added.

"We may be having more earthquakes of late, but nothing we can't handle," the Senator from Washington State boomed. "We know how to live on the ring of fire."

"I'm not sure you should put that on the brochure, Senator," Josh replied, and the Senator and his wife laughed once again.

"The two of you are just delightful," Sassy McBain declared. "Aren't they delightful together, Edward?"

Edward nodded, and then elbowed Josh and motioned to the stage. "Similar thing happened to me while watching Sinatra thirty years ago. Since then, Frank works like a charm on the wife every time. My advice, stock up on Enrique Iglesias CDs."

"Huh?" Josh was confused, but didn't have time to ask what the Senator was talking about because Mrs. McBain was still talking.

"…you two must come to our Chesapeake Clambake this summer!"

"Oh?" Donna's eyebrows went up as she looked at Josh. They both started nodding and talking in unison. "We'd… uh… love to."

"Excellent. Excellent, we'll send you an invitation." And with that, the pushy crowd started parting the couples. "Ciao." The Senator's wife waved at them and a dumbfounded Josh and Donna waved back.

"They have that clambake every year, it's famous. A lot of deals are made at it, Leo refused to miss it," Josh whispered loudly in Donna's ear as they walked away.

"I know, and she wants me to call her Sassy! Did you hear that?" Donna replied excitedly. "They're supposed to have an amazing vacation home on Chesapeake Bay. CJ went once and said it was incredible."

"I remember." Josh sounded mildly disgusted. "She didn't stop mentioning it for weeks."

"Actually, I don't know why they're worried about earthquakes in Washington; they're rumored to have incredible homes all over the world. He made a lot of money in high tech before he ran for his seat, you know. Probably one reason they're reputed to throw the best parties in the district."

"I have never been invited to one of their parties. I've always known them, yet I was never invited." He glanced over at her. "I think you're making me more popular."

"Oh Josh," she demurred, but then ruined the effect by adding, "That goes without saying."

**CUT TO:  
INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER, SMALL COMMAND CENTER**

"Hi." Ronna said softly, peeking around the door.

"You're back?" Claire sounded surprised.

"Yeah… before we leave I just wanted to… sorry, for running out. I know that it seemed like I was judging you for who your father is or something, and I just wanted to clear up that it wasn't like that at all."

"Okay… what was it then?"

"My own foolishness, not a big deal." She was going to leave it at that, but at the look on Claire's face, she continued the explanation. "I like Bono for his activism and music; you like Bono because he's... a sex god... or something. Anyway, it was really nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me… watch... the balls with you. Take care." And she moved to leave yet again. This time for the final time.

"Bye," Claire returned softly before calling, "Wait, one thing."

"What?" Ronna turned back to face her.

But instead of an answer, she found Claire's lips on hers. Warm. Hot. Insistent. The kiss lasted a full ten seconds. Ronna was so stunned she almost didn't kiss her back. Almost. Thankfully she came to her senses and started to participate before the kiss ended.

When Claire pulled back, she looked Ronna in the eye. "I like Bono for his activism and music, too."

**CUT TO:  
INT: WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER HALL B**

"May I borrow Donna for a minute, Josh?" The First Lady asked as they approached her. "The Texas Democratic Women are trying to get me to chair a tea or something in the next few weeks. I need you to get me out of it, at least until I get settled. Oh, and Josh, Sam and Lou were just looking for you. Sounded important."

Resignedly, Donna watched Josh walk away as she went with Helen to take care of the… tea situation.

**CUT TO:  
INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER – PRIVATE VIP SUITE**

"So what did you tell Baker when he said Toby was a traitor and deserved to fry?" Lester asked incredulously.

"I told him not to breathe that opinion to another living soul until we talk again. He's going to end up pissing off everyone. The left, who support Toby, and the right, who can use Baker's pardon record as an excuse to paint him with the same cronyism brush with which they're painting Bartlet."

"I know Toby was a friend and colleague to you both, but man, he screwed us." The President rubbed his eyes with one hand as he addressed Josh and Sam. Lou and Lester looked on.

"He screwed President Bartlet first," Lester added helpfully.

"And now Bartlet is screwing us." Santos took a swig from a bottle of water.

"You'd think with all this screwing, we'd be having more fun," Lou intoned. They all looked at her as if she'd grown three heads. She raised a hand. "Sorry."

The President looked between Josh and Sam. "What do we do?" 

Sam answered, "Either you come out against the pardon, call Toby a traitor, and charge Bartlet with the worst kind of cronyism, or they destroy Baker's chance at confirmation."

"I don't want to do that." Santos leaned back in his chair as he fiddled with the water bottle. "There has to be another way."

"You may not have a choice, Sir," Lou replied. "At this point we need to do whatever we need to do in order to get Baker confirmed."

"No," Josh interjected. He'd been quiet thus far. 

All four heads jerked to look at him curiously.

"There's a third option." Josh's voice was resolute.

"I'd love to hear it," Santos encouraged when Josh didn't continue.

"We tell those lily-livered, opportunistic vultures to shove it." At everyone's stunned expression, he elaborated with a shrug, "We call their bluff."

"What?" Lou exclaimed at the same time Sam started shaking his head.

"Josh, I don’t think this is a bluff," Sam answered. 

Josh shook his head. "Oh, it's a bluff, all right. They want to get us to come out against Bartlet and the pardon, and piss off the left of our own party. They want to divide Democrats on this issue."

"Might be a pill we have to swallow."

"No, they are not going to make this the issue. You said it yourself with Baker, Sam. He's going to end up pissing off everybody. So are the Republicans. No one who wants to win an election in the next two to six years wants to be seen as coming out for letting astronauts die. Toby saved the lives of three astronauts. Right now we can't let any member of Congress forget that."

"That's going to work?" Santos asked. "Because I like that a whole lot better than coming out against President Bartlet."

"Yes. Sam, you make sure the message is loud and clear that we will make *the* issue the lives of those astronauts. Anyone who comes after us on a pardon we had nothing to do with, will get it back from us tenfold."

Sam pressed his lips together and then said, "Okay. Let's do it." 

"Good." The President looked back to Josh. "What about this story on the Kiowa Warrior; where are we on that?"

"Under control, Sir," Josh answered quickly.

"Great, let's get back to the party."

Lou fell into step with Josh as they started walking out of the room. "You have all the information from Otto on the blog?"

"Yup," Josh answered. "Very enlightening."

"I know. Otto and Bram also tracked down the Secretary of Defense. He's here. Do you want me to talk to-"

"No." Josh's tone was steely. "I'll take this one myself."

**CUT TO:  
INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER MAIN BALLROOM**

Josh crossed his arms and leveled his gaze at the newly-minted Secretary of Defense. "Philip, I have every reason to believe that this story was planted by the Defense Department."

"That's ridiculous,” he scoffed.

Josh felt a surge of adrenaline as the old juices began to flow. He'd been on the campaign trail for the last year and he was good at that, but he was also good at this and he'd missed it. "It's hard to believe that Bernard of Bernard's Blogocity in Elkhart, Indiana thought of the angle himself and got it all typed up within ten minutes of the details being released to the media. And our Communications Department tells us Drudge was linked to him within five minutes. That sounds like the work of someone who was given a heads-up and who has an agenda."

"Bernard's Blogocity? Drudge? Does anyone legitimate have it? Why are we even paying attention to the ramblings of some idiot in Indiana?"

Josh stood firm. "Because we have to. Tonight on Drudge, tomorrow on CNN. But we're stopping it before it gets there. "

The Secretary of Defense looked annoyed. "I can assure you I had nothing-"

"I'm not accusing you of anything personally. I’m confident of your loyalty to the President. But the Pentagon is a big place and it’s home to a lot of people with vastly different agendas, and it's your first day just like it's our first day. But somebody underneath you wants to make a point and wants to make the Santos Administration look bad before we even get started. You are a part of the Santos Administration; is that the foot you want to start on?"

"No, of course not. But I don't see why anyone at the Pentagon would do that; what would they have to gain? Anyone who works there would know that the analysis from the flight data recorder will be available eventually."

Josh narrowed his eyes, but otherwise was eerily calm when he spoke. "First off, I would bet it was someone who was upset when the Air Force was allocated that money for the F-22 Raptor. Money that was taken from the Army budget when the Kiowa Warrior fleet wasn't replaced." The Secretary looked surprised at that revelation. "And tonight that someone saw an opportunity. The crash happened, it was the Kiowa Warrior, and they knew that on our first day, while the whole administration was scattered around town, that it would be almost impossible for us to combat the story tonight. Hell, they probably hoped we wouldn't even know about it until tomorrow morning. We wouldn’t have been able to start to understand, let alone control the story, for at least a news cycle or two, and then it's already out there."

"What do you want me to do?" the Secretary asked. "An internal investigation?"

Josh actually laughed at the suggestion. "At the Pentagon? With all due respect, I’m not that naïve. What you're going to do is handle tomorrow morning's crash briefing at the Pentagon yourself. If the question comes up—and I think we both know that it will-- you'll put an end to the story. The Army made the decision not to replace those helicopters because they didn't need replacing yet. Make sure every reporter walks out of there thinking the helicopters are safe and the Defense Department is smart about where it spends taxpayer dollars."

"I can't do that!" he exclaimed.

"Why not? I can assure you it's not in your best interest to anger the President your first day on the job. Besides, do you really want the American people focusing unnecessarily on the age of a helicopter fleet, while you're asking for 10,000 more troops in Astana?"

"No, and I don’t want to upset the President, but what if the report comes back and the age of the aircraft was the cause of the crash?"

"In your estimation, what is the likelihood of that happening?"

"Very unlikely," he admitted.

"Then in the very unlikely event that happens, we'll deal with it and do what we need to do. And by that point, we'll have a clear picture to present about why those helicopters weren't replaced. Facts. On our terms. Not theories put forth by Bernard of Bernard's Blogocity, who is trying to make a case that Democrats are weak on defense spending." 

"Okay," he relented. "Please tell the President that I'm going to handle this personally."

"Good." Josh turned to leave, before he stopped and added, "It's not just you. I don't want to hear anyone under your aegis using this crash in an effort to wage a public relations war. If I hear of anyone trying to sell this story, I will be knocking on your door."

"Trust me; I don't want you knocking on my door, Josh."

"You’re damn right you don't; I'm much less forgiving than the President."

**CUT TO  
INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER, MAIN BALLROOM**

Josh emerged from his meeting and immediately sought out Donna.

"There you are." He sounded relieved when he finally found her again. He was still amped up after his meeting with the Defense Secretary. He wanted to tell her all about it, but first things first. "Do you want to meet Bono now? I think we can get up there."

"Nah… that’s alright."

"What?" Josh did a double-take towards her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Are you sure? Because you've been after me to introduce you to Bono since the campaign." He eyed her suspiciously.

She took a deep breath. "There is something I wanted to talk to you about."

Concerned by her demeanor, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the lobby. There was a bench in front of a large glass wall. Once they were seated, he turned to her. "Okay..."

Meeting his eye, she asked, "Remember earlier you said I should be working for you?"

Josh's forehead crinkled, but he didn't answer because she continued speaking.

"When I told you about the F-22 Warrior, you asked me why I wasn't working for you and before that, you joked with Helen about stealing me back."

"I remember," Josh replied carefully. "What about it?"

"Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea."

"What are you talking about, Donna?"

"Sometimes, the last few weeks. Tonight, really. I wonder if I made a mistake." She rushed to get the words out. 

"A mistake…"

"A mistake not taking a job in the West Wing."

He watched her cautiously for a moment, before he took her hand, laced their fingers together, and squeezed. "Is this a mistake?" 

"No, but I really want to be in the room. I don't think I realized how much until tonight."

"Okay." He absorbed that information. "But you said we couldn't work together. So if you were to work in the West Wing it would seem to rule out this…" He squeezed her hand again. "And I don't like that idea."

"I don't like that idea, either."

"You know, it's not like you're shut out completely. Heck, you gave me the last piece of the puzzle I needed on the helicopter thing without even trying."

"Think about how good I could be if I was trying."

"I can't." He shook his head sadly. "It's too tempting. I miss working with you every day… you have no idea. But then I remember I come home to you and that's my priority. So I guess it's a matter of priorities." A look of fear stole over Josh's face. "And what's more important to you…"

She didn't hesitate. "Josh, this is more important to me." This time she squeezed his hand reassuringly. 

"I don't know… I guess I want to do more than worry about hemlines and hairstyles. Did you know we spent a month choosing designers for all her Inauguration outfits? We looked at literally hundreds of sketches and designs. We actually had people lobbying us. My primary duty has been making sure she isn't going to be trashed on Page Six or in Glamour for what she wears this week. I know that's part of the job and I even find it fun, but ultimately, that's not all I want to do. I want to make more of an impact than that."

"So make more of an impact."

She almost laughed at that; it was so easy for him. "Easy for you to say." 

"Donna, map an agenda and go after it."

She thought about that a moment. "You don't understand, Josh. She's so overwhelmed. Right now she's just concerned with learning to navigate the mansion, getting Peter and Miranda settled into school, and not committing a major faux pas."

Josh looked at her earnestly. "So… give her the insider’s tour of the White House as only someone who worked there for seven years can—it's just a matter of her being comfortable and understanding what we do there. As far as the kids, aren't they already back in school? So she should have some free time. And if you're standing next to her every step of the way, she's not going to make any major faux pas. And if she does, you'll be there to fix it. Start small and build from there. Find one issue and go after it." 

"Start small," she repeated thoughtfully, a grin starting to spread across her face. "You think I can do it?"

"I know you can."

She absorbed that, before hopping to her feet and tugging him upright.

"Where are we going?"

"You're introducing me to Bono, remember?"

**CUT TO  
INT. WASHINGTON CONVENTION CENTER**

"Lester, I need to talk to you." Sherrie's heart was beating out of her chest and she was afraid she was perspiring profusely. She was usually a cool cucumber, but right now she felt more nervous than she had in her entire life. She had to keep reminding herself that this was worth it. And also, what was done was done. 

"What about, Cherry? And why do you have your coat? It's early."

At the nickname, and the teasing way he said it, she smiled in spite of herself. "I don’t think you're going to want to call me that in a minute."

"And why not? I thought we were having a good time tonight." His voice was decidedly flirtatious.

She took a deep breath and then dove in face-first. "I didn't tell you the full story earlier."

"What story?"

"The story of what I do for a living now." She paused a second before continuing. "Over the years, as a publicist I fed sightings of politicians and celebrities at the establishments I represent to different media outlets. For instance, I had an almost daily conversation with Stu Winkle."

Lester immediately straightened his posture and everything about him was on edge, even as his stomach began to sink. "Okay…"

"I don't work for the PR firm anymore. I quit two weeks ago."

Again he said, "Okay…"

"I've started freelance writing. Lester, I did get the tickets through my old job, but I'm here trying to work tonight."

"Work doing what, exactly?" His voice was tight. If she didn't get to the point and soon, he was going to choke it out of her.

"Josh Lyman and Donna Moss are very photogenic," she replied, trying not to cringe at the same time.

"How would you know that?" he asked, realizing immediately that it wasn't the non-sequitur it appeared to be.

"Because my photographer has taken dozens of photos of them tonight and they're amazing. Seriously, they would be wonderful ambassadors for the administration; you should be using that-"

"Your photographer?" He cut her tap-dancing routine short.

She nodded and continued. "Earlier tonight, after meeting them and inadvertently hearing their life… and love story, I pitched a fluffy, positive angle on them to an editor I know. A sidebar." She took a deep breath and willed herself to stop shaking, "A little human interest angle amongst all the Inaugural Ball coverage. Without a Vice President and Second Lady, there's not as much area to spread the focus to, but then here were these fascinating, powerful dual Chiefs of Staff who happened to be dating." 

"Okay…" He said the word slowly, trying to wrap his mind around what he was hearing. Part of him couldn't believe that he'd screwed up so badly on his first day; he'd introduced a fledgling gossip writer to the people he was supposed to protect. He swallowed roughly as he mentally assessed the damage. "They won't like it, but so far it doesn't sound bad for the administration. And as the Press Secretary, I don't want to jump out of a window… and at this point, I probably still have a job tomorrow. What aren't you telling me?"

"Ted, the editor, loved it. I mean he really, really loved it. Loved them. Loved the pictures, loved their story. Called them Star-Crossed Staffers."

"What are you saying? Are pictures of them going to appear in the gossip section of the Washington Post tomorrow with a cheesy caption?" 

"Lester, please don't hate me. I had no idea, no intention when I saw you earlier, but this is my big break. An opportunity to sell a story right away."

"Bottom line, Sherrie." His voice was rough and all the familiarity from earlier was gone. 

"Josh Lyman and Donna Moss are going to be on the cover of People magazine."

 

**THE END**


End file.
